It’s hard for me to love other people. It’s even harder for me to love myself.
I was driving home from work Monday evening and I had just angrily hung up the phone. A woman had called me from a company that did some work at my house a few years ago. I didn’t like the way the company was handling its business with me, but it was nothing personal with the woman.
The thing that annoyed me wasn’t her fault. She was just reading a script. She was doing her job. But I was in a bad mood — and I took out my frustrations on her.
I wasn’t nasty or rude, but I certainly wasn’t kind or loving.
As I drove the rest of the way down I-459 toward home, I stewed in my irritation, but my annoyance quickly turned toward myself. I wasn’t upset with that woman or her company.
I lectured myself about being a hypocrite. I berated myself about my unwillingness to live up to my values when it wasn’t convenient — when I wasn’t in the right mood.

Class experiment is evidence: Folks want something for nothing
Am I betraying the truth if I don’t preach to the converted each day?
I’m all broken up about ‘draconian’ cuts hitting the federal government
Vile human cost of war ignored by Americans playing political games
Listen to Samuel’s ancient warning to Israel about anointing a ruler: ‘…you shall be his slaves’
Need for love drives behaviors; for me, old needs make me eat
If romantic love is real and true, does it never really fade away?
In the name of ‘fairness,’ everyone forced to pay for expensive chair lifts
Pinning big hopes on Mitt Romney? He’s a hypocrite on ObamaCare